


Need a Hand?

by mildlyproductivetrashbag



Category: Victor Frankenstein (2015)
Genre: Coffee, Limbs, M/M, Science Experiments, Sleep Deprivation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-17
Updated: 2018-07-17
Packaged: 2019-06-11 22:56:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15326235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mildlyproductivetrashbag/pseuds/mildlyproductivetrashbag
Summary: Igor makes a mistake, and Victor is Not Amused™. Shenanigans ensue.





	Need a Hand?

It had started as a simple mistake. **  
**

Victor had woken him up in the dead of night to ask him for help with another one of his experiments. Of course, Igor obliged. What else was he going to do? Refuse? Yeah, that wasn’t an option with Victor. You try saying no to him, see how that works out.

So there he was, barely conscious, and being dragged into the laboratory by the arm. Fortunately, Victor’s problem is relatively simple, and easy to solve. He fixes it in just under ten minutes, to his relief.

Unfortunately, Victor wasn’t going to let him go that easily. He insisted on making Igor stay in the lab until he was finished. Just in case any more problems would crop up, he said. When Igor tries to protest, Victor just shoves a mug filled with some black sludge he assumes is supposed to be coffee into his hands and pushes him into a chair. Then he turns back to his experiment and continues his work with much gusto.

Meanwhile, Igor just breathes a heavy sigh and resigns himself to another sleepless night. He takes a sip of the coffee. 

It’s disgusting. He continues to drink it anyway. He’s pretty sure the thing is one step away from gaining sentience. Might as well dispose of it down his throat.

The dark sludge does nothing for him, except make his heart race. His thought process is still dull and sluggish. He falls asleep a few minutes later, with his palm cupping his chin and slowly leaning further and further into the bureau beside him. The mug falls from his group and slides onto the top.

His last thought before succumbing to the darkness is, “I should have brought my blanket.”

He gets to rest for a grand total of ten minutes, so his actions after being woken up are completely justified. **  
**

Igor wakes up to the sounds of Victor literally screaming at him from the other end of the room, saying, “Igor, you lazy lout, give me a hand!” He repeats the second phrase several times, getting louder and louder with each repetition, until Igor practically falls out of his chair in his rush to comply.

However, poor Igor was not exactly at his best at that moment. He was still dazed and confused and still very much in need of some shut-eye. In his current condition, he misinterpreted Victor’s call for help, and instead took it as an order to literally give the scientist a hand.

When he scrambled to his feet, he doesn’t immediately run to Victor’s side. Instead, he dashed to the counter and grabbed the disembodied hand (which was conveniently placed there). Then he sprints back to Victor to hand it to him, panting heavily.

Victor was understandably confused at suddenly having a human limb in his hand. He actually stopped his experiment (wonder of wonders!) and turned to look at Igor. “Did you just… give me a hand?”

He looked so confused and upset and downright  _offended_  that Igor couldn’t help but burst into laughter. Victor scowled even further, and dropped the hand onto the table. “Very humorous, Igor.”

Before, Igor would have been mortified. He would have flushed right down to his boots and begged for forgiveness. But he and Victor are friends now, and add to that his sleep-addled brain, so he’s not concerned about retribution. Still, to appease his friend, he apologizes. “Forgive me, Victor. I was half-asleep when I heard you calling. I might have misinterpreted it,” he sheepishly rubbed the back of his head.

“Just help me with this.” Victor says, shaking his head. To himself, he mutters, “Maybe I shouldn’t drag Igor out of bed in the middle of the night. Or ask him to help when he’s half-conscious.” He hums to himself contemplatively. “Or perhaps I should just brew better quality coffee.”

Igor sighs.

The next day, Igor wakes up late (no surprise there). He fully expects to eat breakfast alone, so he’s startled to see Victor waiting for him when he enter the dining room. The table is already set, the teapot filled with tea, and food has already been prepared. He’s completely astonished.

“Victor?” He asks tentatively. “You’re still here?”

“I am.” Victor states, in a nonchalant manner. He casually takes a sip of tea and begins to read from the newspaper. He doesn’t say a word.

Igor stands awkwardly for a few seconds. When it’s clear that Victor has no intention of explaining himself, Igor takes a seat across from him. He reaches out to grab the teapot, but Victor’s hand suddenly whips forward and beats him to it. He snatches the pot and pulls it away from Igor’s reach, only to aggressively pour tea into his partner’s tea cup.

Igor isn’t sure how he’s managing to pour tea aggressively, but somehow he’s doing it. He’s never been more perplexed in his entire life. He opens his mouth to try and ask what in the name of all that is holy is going on, but Victor raises the newspaper to cover his entire face.

It’s utterly ridiculous. They spend the entire breakfast without conversing. Strangely enough, Victor doesn’t eat a single thing. Igor is beginning to suspect his friend has already eaten, and is only staying behind for some indiscernible reason. He privately hopes it isn’t for an experiment. As much as he enjoys  _doing_  experiments, he’s not so enthusiastic when he becomes the subject of one. He starts to imagine what could have possibly caused Victor to act this way.

It’s only when a hand frantically waves back and forth in front of his face does he break out of his reverie.

“Igor? Igor? Dear god man! Are you that sleep deprived? I even let you sleep in today.” Victor murmurs the last bit quietly, but not enough for Igor not to overhear.

Everything suddenly makes. The breakfast, Victor’s behaviour, it’s all an apology. The scientist must have felt guilty from last night. This was his own eccentric way of apologizing.

“No matter,” said Victor, shaking his head. “Since it seems you’ve already finished your breakfast. I shall take my leave.” He nodded at Igor and turns to leave. A sudden burst of fondness wells up in Igor, and he finds himself standing up. “Victor, wait!” He darted forward to grab Victor’s wrist.

He doesn’t know what possessed him to do something so impulsive, but by then it’s too late to back out. “I just wanted to thank you.” He said quietly. “F-for the breakfast, I mean.” he hurried to add. “It was good.”

They stare each other for a beat too long ,and the silence grows heavy. Then, Victor clears his throat. “Of course it was. I cooked it. I produce nothing with less than exceptional quality.” He said, looking proud. “Now, if you will excuse me, I really must leave for the academy.”

He pulled his wrist out of Igor’s grip and practically dashes out of the flat. Igor smiled, shook his head, and began to clear the table.

That night, the two find themselves back in the laboratory, working on another instrument. Just another normal night. Victor, on the other hand, was almost literally vibrating with manic energy, more so than usual. Which, considering this Victor we’re talking of, is positively  _concerning._

Igor is working on trying to reanimate a large intestine when the kettle began to whistle in the next kitchen. Knowing Victor wouldn’t leave his own work to get up, he runs off to take care off it. He calls over his back, “Keep an eye on those intestines!” as he sprints to the kitchen.

He doesn’t see Victor smile deviously behind his back.

When Igor returns with two steaming cups of tea, he’s not prepared for the sight that awaits him in the lab.

Victor is sitting beside the worktable with the smuggest expression Igor has ever seen. The tray of intestines is lying next to him. There is an eyeball placed neatly on top of it, like a cherry on top of a cake.

Igor stares.

In his mind, his joke from last night is playing in slow motion. So this was what Victor was so bloody excited about. Meanwhile, the man in question is still grinning widely, proud as all hell of his joke.

“I kept an eye on it for you. That’s what you wanted, right?” He asks.

And thus, their joke war begins.

A few days later, Igor stands in front of Victor, staring him down. When Victor tells him to "Break a leg!", he calmly snaps a fibula without any hesitation. Then he throws the two bone shards away and walks out of the room without another word. Victor was so impressed, he was unable to find an appropriate response until several days later.

It all comes to a head one rainy night in November, when Victor throws a literal monkey head at him while yelling, “Don’t lose your head!”

Igor isn’t ashamed to admit that he let out a rather girlish scream (more like a shriek) when he saw the monkey head flying at him through the air. Victor hunched over and cackled. He literally had tears in his eyes.

“That,” Victor gasped out in between laughs, “was absolutely spectacular. I must thank you, my dear friend. The memory of this moment will bring me much joy in the years to come.”

Igor is still trying to recover from his spot in the ground. Once Victor managed to get a hold of himself for long enough stop laughing, he walked over to Igor and helped him up. “Alright, alright,” Igor said, brushing himself off. “I admit defeat.” He raised his hands in mock surrender and bowed. “You are the ultimate jokester.”

Victor clapped him on the back. “As much as I would love to accept that title,” he smirked, “I think it would be more appropriate for us to share it. After all, you were the instigator of all this chaos.” He picks up the monkey head from the floor and deposits it onto the table beside them.

It said something about the two of them that they barely glance at it twice before turning to each other once more. If someone had told Igor a few months ago that he would eventually be happy one day, he would have laughed. Privately of course, and when he was out of everyone’s sight.

And yet here he was, sitting and laughing with someone he could consider a friend. It felt like a dream, but this was reality.

Victor draped a hand over Igor’s shoulders and said, “Come on. Let’s go out for a drink. I think we’ve done enough for one day.”

It’s an odd request, certainly, especially considering Victor suggested it, but Igor doesn’t protest. He allows himself to be dragged out into the cold London streets. Before they leave, he steals a glance into their shared flat. A warm and fuzzy feeling fills his heart, and with a jolt he realizes that this is what contentment feels like.

He desperately wishes this moment will never end.


End file.
